


What is Harmless But Can Kill You?

by naasad



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Immortality, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: Time.





	What is Harmless But Can Kill You?

Enjolras sighed as his alarm went off and burrowed further underneath the covers. Eventually, the beeping stopped - only to start again five minutes later. He groaned and reached for his phone, shutting it off with his eyes closed.

He was on vacation, for god's sake, or... staycation if you asked Courf. Regardless, he was sleeping in.

Not according to his phone, though.

On the fiftieth chime (yes, he counted), he finally gave in and looked at the group chat.

 **Les Amis (á Nouveau)**  
[Courf:] _SOS!!!!!!!!!!!! Emg meeting @ Musain!_  
[Jolllly:] _Who's dying?_  
[Ferre:] _Not that kind of emergency._  
[Ferre:] _Where's Enjolras?_  
[Courf:] _staycation_  
[Courf:] _ENJ!!!!!!!!!!!!_  
[Courf:] _we neeeeeed u!_

The chat continued in a similar fashion until the last few messages.

[Courf:] _srsly guys i think i found him_  
[Apollo:] _omw_  
[Courf:] _HE LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_  
[Courf:] _Musain asap kk?_

Enjolras tore out of bed, then paused in front of his closet. After two hundred years, he definitely wanted to make a good first (second?) impression, but speed was of the essence. He scowled and threw on the first clean clothes he found and his favorite red hoodie, tying up his hair in the messiest bun he'd ever dared before running out of the apartment, barely remembering his keys and wallet.

He was at the Cafe Musain in record time and made a beeline towards their tables at the back.

Everyone was there - Courf, Ferre, Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, Feuilly, Bahorel, Jehan, and Marius, Cosette, Eponine, and Gavroche. Everyone they'd found reincarnated in the past twenty-five years. Everyone except Grantaire.

"Where?" Enjolras hissed as he slid in next to Courfeyrac.

Courf pointed to a head of curly black hair bent over a cup of coffee. "I didn't get a good look at his face, but it could be."

Enjolras leaned forward, well aware he was staring. Then the man looked up, and he knew... it wasn't him.

He sighed and leaned back, burying his face in his sleeves.

"Oh, sorry." Courf reached over and patted his head.

Enjolras slapped his hand away. "I'm going back to my apartment," he announced and stood, then turned at the sound of ceramic shattering on the floor.

Grantaire looked exactly the same. They all had their little differences from their first lives. Enjolras' eyes were now brown, Combeferre's skin was even darker this time around, and Courfeyrac was easily half a head shorter. The easiest way to snap out of a flashback was to look in a mirror. Grantaire, however, looked exactly the same.

Enjolras looked him up and down, from the bags under his eyes to the ratty hems of his jeans. When he moved to cover the inside of his elbow, he immediately noticed the track marks and made what he hoped was a sympathetic noise. He started forward, striding purposefully.

"Enjolras, no," Combeferre hissed.

Grantaire flinched, and Enjolras ran to reach him before he fled, cupping his jaw with his hand and pressing an urgent kiss to his lips.

Someone choked on their drink.

As Grantaire returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around Enjolras' shoulders, neither of them cared.

"You're real," Grantaire whispered.

Enjolras wiped the tears from his cheeks. "So are you."

Grantaire kissed him again, then looked up at the others. "You're all real."

"What the fuck?" Courfeyrac yelped. "You two hate each other!"

Enjolras shook his head and led Grantaire to the rest. "You missed the part where we died holding hands." He rubbed his thumb over Grantaire's knuckles at that memory.

Grantaire muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'I wish' under his breath.

"So when did you remember?" Combeferre asked, ready with his pencil and notepad.

"You're reincarnated?" Grantaire blinked in surprise.

"You're not?"

Grantaire laughed, high and strangled. "I have been around at least since the invention of the wheel." He shook his head, rubbing his face with a hand. "I can't fucking die."

Enjolras tensed. "Did you know?"

"No." Grantaire reached over and placed his hand over his fist, coaxing his fingers to intertwine with his own. "No, I didn't. I thought maybe, finally, bullets would do it, and I wouldn't have to keep living this miserable existence."

"That's why you were against the revolution," Eponine said, as perceptive as ever.

Cosette nodded. "You'd seen it all before."

Grantaire squeezed Enjolras' hand and turned to look in his eyes. "I hadn't allowed myself the luxury of friends in millennia. Every time I do, I get maybe sixty years at most, and then everyone I love dies. I didn't - I loved you - all of you, but especially you - more than anyone before or since. And I only got three years. Three years in five millennia of existence is less than nothing."

Enjolras kissed him. "But we're back, now, and hopefully you'll get your sixty years now."

"Yes." Grantaire pressed their foreheads together and smiled. "Yes, now we have time. Just a little more time."


End file.
